


I died like a saint

by BeesKnees



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Chris and Leon are married, Game: Resident Evil 4, I did it for the whump, M/M, Marriage, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: After Ashley Graham comes home by herself and kills the president of the United States, Chris Redfield is sent to Spain to find out what happened and locate missing agent Leon S. Kennedy. Unfortunately, Albert Wesker gets there first.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield
Comments: 14
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [They Never Wanted Me Around (Except to Calm Their Fears)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610918) by [realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/realpoutydadsurvives). 



> While not connected to, this is certainly inspired by realpoutydadsurvives' [ Once More With Chris Series.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1326299)

Chris doesn't find out that Leon is in Spain until after Ashley Graham is home. That's almost always how it works. Usually, they can at least tell the other when they're going on mission, but not even always that. An American agent being married to a BSAA captain is full of legal and ethical intricacies. 

And in this case, Chris hadn't known that he needed to be worried about his husband until the news breaks across the world: the president's daughter had been kidnapped by a cult, ransomed home, and when she had arrived, red eyes glowing, she had transformed into a BOW and bitten her father's head off. 

Near simultaneously, the BSAA receives the entire report from the United States: Agent Leon Kennedy had been sent down to retrieve Ashley. He had arrived. He had made contact with Ashley even. But when it had come time for evacuation, only the mute Ashley had been on scene with no sign of Agent Kennedy. Advisers had warned the president to wait to bring Ashley home until they heard from Agent Kennedy. But his love for his daughter had blinded him to any potential dangers. 

Ashley Graham is dead. The president is dead. And no one has heard from Leon Kennedy.

Chris can feel his heartbeat in his entire body as he reads the report. They know this is the reality of the work that they do. It's why they had gotten married so quickly, because they knew that neither of them was really made for the long term. They're made for this fight. 

And even knowing that – despite loving Leon the best that he can each and every time he sees him, and despite the fact that they have both prepared for this eventuality – Chris isn't fucking ready for it. 

The BSAA has been requested to clean up this mess, and Chris is scared for a moment they're not going to let him go. That this is going to be a circumstance where he's going to be seen as too blinded by his relationship with Leon. He _is_ consumed by it, but that doesn't mean his interests don't align with everything else right now. The mission is to find out what happened in Spain. To find out what happened to Leon. 

And thank fuck that the BSAA and the American government agree with that. 

They set Chris loose in Spain.

…

To be fair, he doesn't quite go down as Captain Redfield. He is sent by himself with Leon's handler, Hunnigan, in his ear. A separate BSAA team is also sent. The idea is that if Chris isn't leading men, he won't put them in danger if he _does_ become compromised by whatever happened to Leon. 

Chris understands. He even agrees with the decision. But as he drives himself out to where Leon was dropped off, everything is too quiet. It leaves too much room for thoughts and emotions. Chris is used to running on instincts and he's used to the cloud of camaraderie to surround him when tensions aren't running high. 

Now, it's just him and his worry. 

Worry doesn't serve him. Worry won't find Leon. 

“Chris, you're approaching the path,” Hunnigan says over his comm. 

“Understood,” Chris answers, bringing the jeep to a stop in front of the almost unnoticeable path aside the road. He gets, checks his gear over again for something to do, and then sets off.

“I'm on foot, Hunnigan,” Chris reports in. 

“All right,” she answers solemnly in his ear. “Remember that locals are considered hostile. Approach with extreme caution.” 

Chris grunts. From the sounds of it, there had been a single person who Leon had made contact with who _hadn't_ been hostile, which should make it interesting to try and track him. But then, Chris is used to following paths of destructions and bodies, so maybe the lack of witnesses won't be a problem. 

He steps into the village, and everything is utterly silent. The village is splayed with carnage, a tableau of human bodies just _everywhere_. Most are still entirely human, but a few signs of change. Chris steps around carefully, keeping his 9mm in hand. 

This part of Leon's journey had been the most well-documented – the village in a surprising state of ruin, livestock neglected, rotting food and fetid water. 

He has to clamp down on the instinct to imagine Leon moving through this mess on his own, racing up stairs and breaking through windows to evade a seemingly ever-growing army of enemies. 

Despite the sheer number of bodies, he still expects to find _someone_. But as he moves cautiously forward, there's nothing. 

“Hunnigan,” Chris says quietly, “there's no one left.” 

Hunnigan pauses and then answers, “Okay, Chris. Keep moving.”

He does. He grows ever more alert and tense. But step after step through the dank landscape shows nothing more but bodies – some examples of extreme changes that his throat clenches when he sees. There's signs of gun shots everywhere, proof that, at some point, Leon S. Kennedy had been here. 

Leon is good at his job. Chris knows that better than most. But he doesn't understand how there is _nothing_ here. And some of these BOWs show no obvious signs of trauma – no neat headshots, no torsos riddled with bullet holes, no shattered bodies from grenades. Some of them look like they merely tipped over and stopped breathing. 

There's something at play that he doesn't understand. And it's either that there's some way to kill these creatures that Leon didn't get a chance to report in or there's something that came in after Leon and killed whatever was left. 

Chris is starting to think it's the latter. Which may mean he has no idea at all what he's up again and also may give him some indication of what _might_ have gotten Leon.

He almost wishes for the simplicity of shooting an upright, human-sized BOW. 

He reaches the castle at the fringes of the village.

“Careful,” Hunnigan warns. “This is the last place where I had transmission with Leon. He reported that whoever was occupying the castle was also hostile and related to Los Illuminados, but I don't have much beyond that.” 

His answers are possibly behind this door. His husband is possibly behind this door, dead or alive or somewhere in between. Christ. Not the last one, he hopes. He'll owe it to Leon to put him down if he's become something beyond monstrous, but Chris knows he'll carry it with him to the end of his days. He thinks he'll be ruined for anything else. And he won't even let himself be, because he'll owe Leon fucking better than that. 

He steps inside. And there's the same yawning quiet. 

The castle is massive, a literal winding maze of opulence and absurdity. It's littered with the corpses of priests and blinded men with parasites in their backs and dogs and enormous insects that make Chris' skin crawl. He begins to see the true extent of what Las Plagas can and has been used to do.

Throughout it out, he is able to report to Hunnigan. Despite her warning and previous experience, his comms never falter. He hears her loud and clear the entire time. He suffers through the endless puzzles and stupid mechanisms, once again wishing for something he could _fight_.

He feels like he's covered every goddamn inch of the castle when he steps into an expansive room that is just stacked with bodies. Something happened here. Something big. There have been loads of priests everywhere, but this is a veritable army – this was a final stand of some sort. He steps gingerly over bodies, looking for signs of movement.

At the center of the mass are two people, splayed and markedly different from the throngs of interchangeable foot soldiers. The first is a small man, shrunken and pale, wearing what Chris would consider to be an old-fashioned costume. Half of the top of his head is gone, a shocked expression still painted on what's left of his face. 

The man beside him is older still, clad in purple robes that are ripped from one side of his body. Underneath, Chris can see that the man's skin is half shifted – as if he had begun to be affected by the plaga and was killed while still transforming.

“You seeing this, Hunnigan?” Chris asks. 

“Affirmative, Chris,” Hunnigan answers. If she's shaken by the images she's seeing – that Leon could be somewhere in this mess – she doesn't show it. “From the information Leon sent us and what we've put together since, I believe that is Osmund Saddler, the leader of Los Illuminados.” 

The leader of Los Illuminados. Which begs the question that, if the cult leader is dead and the cult is gone, what destroyed them? 

It would be a goddamn relief if Leon would just look down at him from a railing above right now and shrug off the work as a part of his carnage. Leon would never forgive himself for not managing to save Ashley, but Chris doesn't give a fuck about that right now. That they could deal with, because at least Leon would still be alive and every other threat would be neutralized. 

“Leon?” Chris calls across the room, keeping himself poised and ready to start shooting if necessary. He keeps scanning the room. It's a grim fact that he's going to have to go through each of these bodies to make sure that none of them are his husband. 

There's no answer, further confirming that there's nothing left alive in this castle. 

“Kennedy!” Chris shouts, allowing himself to become a little louder. He starts to actively look through the bodies, searching for a sign of a leather coat or the ashy blond of Leon's hair. He nudges bodies over with his boots.

And none of them are Leon, which is fucking amazing and terrifying. 

Above him comes the flash of movement that Chris has been waiting hours for. He's refocused in a second, hands clenched around his gun. His body is singing with the near relief of a rush of adrenaline. 

But what steps out in front of him is not a plaga-ridden body or Leon or anything that Chris had been expected. 

Instead: a woman. 

Dark hair shorn into a neat bob, red dress that seems not entirely practical given the situation. And a touch of coyness around the mouth and eyes that makes Chris realize who this is.

Chris has heard the stories of Ada Wong from Raccoon City. But in those stories, Leon had always believed that Ada was dead. Chris narrows his eyes and doesn't take his gun off of her. 

“Hello, Captan Redfield,” she says, unflinchingly. 

“Where's Leon?” Chris asks sharply. He doesn't care how she survived Raccoon City or why she's here or how she survived whatever the hell happened here. All he cares about is that she is the only possibly person who might have any intel on what happened and where it has left Leon. 

For just a second – just one – Chris _swears_ that he sees a flicker of something beneath that enigmatic mask. He pays no heed to it, because from all the stories that Chris has heard, even if Ada did care about Leon, Ada cared about her own motives more. Trust is a black-and-white issue for Chris, and he knows what side Ada Wong falls on, no matter what Leon might have meant to her or what she might have meant to Leon.

“He's alive,” Ada says first. Chris would go dizzy with relief if he could. He maintains a firm hold over himself, though, because he's not going to let any cracks in his guard right now. And they all know well enough that “alive” isn't a guarantee of anything these days. 

“Our boy's in a bit of trouble, though,” she continues, and Chris nearly snarls at the use of the word _our_. 

With a flick of her wrist, she tosses something in the air. In a wide arc, it descends toward him. Chris so nearly shoots it. If this had been any other situation, he probably would have. But he doesn't, and he knows this is the same reason that he's alone in the castle in Spain and not leading a BSAA team. The case lands a few feet in front of him, sliding to a stop just before the toes of his boots. 

Chris eyes it warily.

“Open it,” Ada encourages. “It won't bite.”

Chris kneels, half his attention still on Ada, ready to spring up and defend himself if need be. He snaps open the case and, inside, are – glasses? He glances at them and back up at her. 

“This way you'll see,” Ada says, “what happened to Leon. Why you're the only one who might be able to save him.”

Chris stares at her for a moment longer, but if she's bluffing, he can't tell. They both already know that he'll put the glasses on at the scantest promise that it might help Leon. And he does.

In front of his eyes, the lenses play out the scene that must have happened not so long ago. It's the same room, devoid of the army of bodies. In the center of the room is the leader – Saddler, Hunnigan had called him. 

He is approached by the shorter man that Chris had found beside him, preening and evidently self-pleased. Chris can tell just by the look of him that he was a real shit. Flanking either side of him are two massive figures in imposing black and red robes, their faces hidden, but their mass suggesting they're beyond human and heavily plaga mutated.

And behind the three of them is Leon.

Chris' heart leaps into his throat. The tiny screen isn't enough. Leon is so close and seeing him like this makes him feel further than ever. Chris can't make out the expression on his face through the blurred pixels but what he _can_ see quite clearly is that Leon's eyes are red with the infection of the plaga. His normally graceful gait is more akin to a befuddled shuffle.

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck_. 

Chris is squeezing his hand so hard he can hear the leather of his gloves creaking. 

This was a possibility, he tries to reassure himself. But through the BSAA, he has connections to the best scientific resources. He just needs to find Leon. He'll get him out of fucking Spain, and they'll get him cured. Everything can still be okay. Otherwise, why would Ada show him this? He doesn't trust her worth a damn, but he can't see the benefit in letting him think that Leon could be saved if he was beyond such. 

The little shit of a man does a twirling bow before Saddler and then takes a step back to present Leon as if gifting him. Leon steps forward, and Saddler smiles faintly. He inspects Leon, circling him, while Leon remains unmoving. Chris hates this: he knows that Leon Kennedy would never be so relaxed with an enemy at his back. 

When Saddler has made his way round, he issues some quiet order to Leon, his staff slightly tilted toward Leon. Obediently and without pause, Leon drops to his knees, _kneeling_ to Saddler. 

Chris is almost upset that this man is already dead, because he'd love to put another round of bullets inside that skull. It's clear that he's pleased that he has command over Leon – and Chris bets he is because Leon was a huge pain in the ass when he showed up on the scene. But Saddler doesn't even know _what_ he has. Leon is so near perfection in his missions, graceful and smart, able to rely on his instincts without fault. He has a heart full of compassion still _and_ the actual ability to make the world a better place – and there aren't many people in this torn world who can say they have both of those assets. It's not _right_ that some small-time cult leader has been able to ensnare Leon and treat him like a toy. It's fucking infuriating that this might be how Leon meets his end. He deserves better. 

He's so caught up in the rage surging through his veins that he forgets that this is the only beginning of this particular chapter. 

Saddler's gloating is cut off. He looks up, frowning, to someone who is outside of the screen. There must be a discussion that Chris can't hear, but it's short. Saddler waves a hand and begins to turn away while Leon takes off toward the outsider, clearly gearing up for a fight. For a moment, he's more familiar. He moves fast enough that Chris can't see the blur of red eyes, just the long lines of Leon's body moving in a fluid arch. 

He's out of sight for only half a second before he comes back into frame, knocked onto his ass and sliding across the floor. He's moving for his gun in the same breath, but someone barrels toward him – a hulking monster of a man. 

“The fuck,” Chris breathes out loud as he recognizes Jack Krauser – another ghost risen from his grave. He knows Leon's old partner at least by sight and name. He can't say much else because he doesn't know the intricacies of whatever missions they went on together, but Chris knows he's supposed to be _dead_. 

Krauser gets one massive hand around Leon's neck and keeps him pinned to the ground while Leon bares his teeth and struggles beneath him. Krauser pops Leon once in the face with his other hand. Leon sprawls underneath Krauser, dazed, and Krauser pushes his way to his feet and slings Leon over one shoulder. With a shit-eating grin, he says something to Saddler and then turns away and walks out of Chris' line of vision.

Saddler's companion is screaming, and that's when the army of plaga-infected flood the room. Chris waits, heart in throat, to see if Leon appears back on the screen. He can see the priests dropping one by one, bullets piercing through their skulls and destroying their bodies until they are incapable of functioning. 

Saddler has gone from bemused to irritated as his cult is taken down with an easy determination. 

When it is only Saddler left, transforming and snarling, the being who has taken the room apart steps into frame. 

_Wesker_.

With the fluid grace of a predator, Wesker steps up to Saddler. With alarming speed, he's directly in front of Saddler, gun to Saddler's forehead. He fires, and Saddler drops. Wesker keeps firing until Saddler stops moving entirely. Then he leans over, rustles through Saddler's robes to pull out several vials, and then also retrieves the odd-looking staff that Saddler had kept near himself with a religious fervor. 

As Wesker stands, he looks over at wherever Ada's camera must have been. For a second, it's like time has fallen away. Wesker is looking right at him, and the world narrows down to the two of them – Wesker, the betrayer, and Chris merely trying to right that wrong. One of them trying to set the world ablaze and the other trying to stop him. How the fuck was he also still alive?

Wesker walks out of frame, and the glasses power off, leaving Chris with a view of the grim room. He looks up, but, _of course_ , Ada is gone. Chris growls. 

Wesker – out of all the fucking people in the world, of all the monsters that have crawled out of their graves – has an infected Leon. 

If Chris had only known that Wesker was alive, Chris would have walked through hell to put him back down again. Knowing that he's alive and has Leon puts Chris in a dangerous amount of rage. It clouds his judgement, and he knows that this level of angry isn't going to serve anything. 

He takes a steadying breath and when he opens his eyes again, there's a map on the glasses, a red light blinking ominously. _Leon._ He doesn't know what else Ada would possibly want to show him. And it's the only clue that he has, and he'll take it, gladly.

“Hunnigan,” Chris says. “I have a lead.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chris doesn't think that he's ever heard Jill Valentine so angry. He _knows_ this all unfair to her – he does know that, okay? But he's a little busy dealing with everything else that's going on. She has to be just as overwhelmed and angry at the revelation that Wesker is still alive. And now she has to contend with the fact that Chris is giving immediate chase against most of the BSAA's “advice.” 

“Just _wait_ for me, Chris,” Jill snaps at him again. 

“I _can't_ ,” Chris answers, equally exasperated. Wesker is on the move quick, trying to put some distance between himself and the BSAA-flooded Spanish countryside. Chris would be loathe to waste the opportunity to thwart Wesker again, but he knows that time truly is of the essence right now. Leon is infected. Chris doesn't have the time to spare to wait for Jill or anyone else to catch up with him. He's going to get his boots back on the same ground as Wesker and everyone else can get there when they get there. 

Jill hisses out a breath over his comm.

“I'm on my way,” she says. “Be alive when I get there.”

“I will be,” Chris promises. It feels better to have Jill's blessing and even better to know he has her backup on the way. He's able to refocus. The tracking dot on the glasses has finally stopped moving, meaning it's unlikely that Wesker is still in the air. Chris doesn't think they're in Spain anymore, but he's also not sure of how many borders he's crossed during his time in the chopper. 

“Hunnigan,” he reports, “I'm landing.” 

“All right, Chris,” she says. Her worry waves across the comms. He knows that she doesn't love that he's heading into this part on his own either. The main BSAA team is still back in Spain, cleaning up the mess that Los Illuminados had left behind and collecting samples so that they can get a better understanding of las plagas. He knows that part of Hunnigan's distress is also for Leon. 

They all know Leon's chances right now. Even if Wesker wasn't involved, it has to be too late. Just because Leon still looked akin to human when Chris saw him on the screen doesn't mean he still is. 

And tactically, they all know that even if Leon is beyond help, they just can't let him remain in Wesker's hands. Wesker is also obviously trying to get a better understanding of las plagas if the trinkets he took from Saddler are anything to go by. And if Wesker gets the same control over Leon that Saddler had, Chris dreads to think of the outcome. He has no idea of the depth of knowledge that Leon has when it comes to the American government and international BOW experiences. But he knows that he doesn't want Wesker to get that info. And that's to say nothing of if Wesker is able to turn Leon into a weapon that he can use. Leon is one of the best at what they do, and Wesker has always shown himself to be creative when using their kind. 

Chris lands in front of an abandoned Umbrella office space. Wesker must have been confident that he wasn't being tracked. He disembarks, reporting his findings back to Hunnigan. 

“I'm getting thermal and power readings from underneath the building,” Hunnigan answers back. That's not a particular surprise, Chris thinks sourly. What else would they do with their time if there weren't stray, hidden Umbrella labs in secret, abandoned locations?

He pushes open the front door, which creaks on its hinges. The main floor, at least, maintains the charade that this place has been abandoned for some time. The atrium is covered in a heavy layer of dust. On the massive floor is the Umbrella logo, scratched and faded over – but never entirely gone, which is something Chris understands. Most of the atrium was made with glass panes surrounding it, so, in spite of the decrepit state of the building, there's plenty of light for Chris to see by. 

He steps further in, footsteps echoing, hair raising on the back of his neck. What he wouldn't give right now to have Leon tease him about how awful his stealth is. 

Just like in the castle, there's no reaction to his presence here, which means it's likely that Wesker is on his own. 

It takes him an irritatingly long time to find his way to the hidden labs underneath the office space. He has to double back several times, finally recovering a keycard that gives him appropriate access. As he heads down in the freshly awakened elevator, fluorescent lights turn on. The rest of the building might have been a shamble of outdated technology from when there were paper pushers here, but the basement has obviously been maintained. 

Chris steps out to neatly polished steel and bright lighting. 

“Hunnigan, you still read me?” he asks quietly. 

“Affirmative,” she answers. It's a small comfort. 

He stalks up and down the hallways, looking through lab space after lab space. Most of them, to be fair, are not kept up, even if the lights turn up as they sense him – so much for stealth, eh, Leon?

It does present some element of luck in that he can easily see into each of the labs and discern which have been stepped into recently. 

And, in turn, he finds the one where Leon is. 

When he sees his husband, all of the training goes right out the window. Chris steps blindly into the room, gun listing downward, forgetting to immediately radio into Hunnigan. If he could, he would say Leon's name, but his throat closes up and he's choking on just air. 

Wesker … has been busy. And Leon is a horror before him. 

Leon is pinned to a steel table, bands lashed across his throat, legs, and arms to hold him in place. He's unconscious, which is a small mercy, his head listing down toward his chest. Chris has to imagine that the only reason that Leon is still alive is the plaga.

Wesker has carefully opened up Leon's chest, peeling away layer by layer so that the plaga is visible, trembling and large within Leon's rib cage and tapping into his nervous system. Chris nearly gags at the sight of it. 

He so badly wants to take his knife and just start stabbing the creature. He wants it gone and out of Leon _now_. But he's heard that removing the plaga, unless done carefully, will kill Leon, and Chris doesn't have the medical knowledge to put Leon back together right now even if the plaga wasn't a problem. 

“Hunnigan,” he manages to choke out. “Are you seeing this?” 

“Medics are on their way with Jill Valentine,” Hunnigan reports. She's steadied her voice – and Chris admires her for that, for her tenacity to focus when things are getting harder. Chris needs to do the same. 

He has to hold his position until Jill and the med team get here. He needs to try and keep Leon alive until then. He needs to figure out as much as he can about what Wesker is doing with las plagas and do everything he can to stop him.

Still, he takes half a step closer to Leon, putting his hand carefully underneath Leon's chin so that he can raise his head. He just needs to see him a little bit better. The plaga in Leon's chest shudders at his presence, clinging more tightly to Leon's rib cage, as if it knows that Chris is a threat to it. Underneath his touch, Leon's eyes flutter. 

“Leon?” Chris whispers, unable to help himself. He knows – he fucking _knows_ – that it's more likely that the plaga is trying to wake Leon's body up to defend itself and still Chris hopes against hope that somehow _Leon_ is responding to _him_. 

“Why, Captain Husband,” someone drawls behind him, “you should have let us know you were here. We would have thrown out the red carpet.”

Chris spins on his heel, flipping the muzzle of his gun back up. In the entrance to the lab, Krauser stands, grinning. 

“Krauser,” Chris snarls. “How could you do this to him?”

“ _Do_?” Krauser echoes laughing. “I didn't ship him off to Spain with a single gun and no backup. Besides,” he draws his knife and circles closer toward Chris. Obeying his instinct, Chris backs away from Leon, trying to keep distance between himself and Krauser, which leaves Krauser directly next to Leon and Chris back at the entrance when they're done shifting.

“I don't think anyone's home anymore, there, Redfield,” Krauser says, raising one massive hand to knock on the side of Leon's head. “Plaga ate this one right up.” Leon's head tilts in the opposite direction, and Chris snarls at Krauser. 

“I can show you what the plaga can do when it's with someone who can handle it though,” Krauser says, beginning to move toward Chris again, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

As he speaks, his arm begins to morph sickeningly. It explodes into a twisted mass of flesh and something that looks like metal. Chris realizes too late that he's far too close to Krauser. 

The mutated arm crushes into Chris' chest, sending him flying back into the hallway. He slides for a bit before regaining himself. 

And, fuck it, here's something that he can finally beat through fighting. It's time to make someone who was a part of hurting Leon _pay_. 

“You let Wesker do that to you?” Chris snarls, taking aim and firing off a shot at that grotesque arm from where he's still splayed on his ass. The bullet deflects off like nothing. Krauser laughs again.

“Let?” he repeats. “Wrong word choice again.” He launches himself across the room with a surprising amount of speed and dexterity given his size. It leaves Chris scrambling to his feet to avoid catching another blow to the chest with that arm. Even with his protective gear, he's guessing he can only take so many hits like that. 

“Boy is Wesker going to be glad to see you here,” Krauser says. “I told him enough stories about Captain Husband. Could hardly believe when it's just Leon Kennedy who shows up _all on his own_.” 

Krauser leaps forward, and Chris jerks backward, barely avoiding the hit. The hallway is too narrow for this kind of fight, and Chris hates the feeling of being stalked by Krauser. He levels his shotgun at Krauser this time, fires, and that arm easily takes the blow. 

“How the hell did _you_ fall in with Wesker?” Chris asks, not about to waste Krauser's chattiness. He dreads to know what, exactly, Wesker knows about his personal life. He doubts that Leon shared too much with Krauser. They try to keep their personal and working lives as separate as possible – but. That's obviously not entirely possible, given situations like these. And particularly given that Krauser was Leon's partner for awhile. 

Krauser shrugs lazily. 

“The United States government only employs fools,” Krauser answers. “Wasn't hard to land somewhere else.”

It's not exactly a helpful verbal answer but his motion is more telling: with the shift of his arms from the shrug, Chris sees the discolored mass on Krauser's chest that promises to be a weak spot. It's typically hidden by that monstrosity of an arm, but Chris knows where he needs to get to now. 

He also suspects that if Wesker already knows that he and Leon are married, it's doubtful that Krauser will try to kill him. Wesker doesn't sow pain not to see the harvest. 

Chris grits his teeth and barrels forward into Krauser. It's a seemingly dumb move and one that delights Krasuer, who barks out a laugh. He lifts his arm up again, decking Chris underneath the chin. Chris' world turns red and dizzy as he goes down again. But he keeps a hold on himself as he falls at Krauser's feet. Krauser's arm is up for a moment, still suspended from hitting Chris. On his back, Chris opens fire, watching with satisfaction as the bullets shred through vulnerable flesh. 

Krauser staggers backward. Chris is immediately on his feet, barreling at Krauser for real this time. He knocks the arm out of the way, grinding his knife into a fleshier part and sinking the blade into the wall. He doesn't doubt that it's not going to hold. But he'll take the few seconds it grants him. He opens fire again, and Krauser groans, going down to one knee. 

“Any information you want to trade for your life?” Chris asks, jabbing the front of his gun into Krauser's weakened chest. He spits out a mouthful of blood from Krauser's last hit. 

“He's dead already, Redfield,” Krauser answers, gritting a grin through his winded response. “Have fun with his corpse.” 

He's about to shoot Krauser again – he doesn't believe for a second that Krauser has any pertinent information on las plagas. But he's stopped by the sound of footsteps behind him – near Leon. 

Chris looks sharply. Wesker stands beside Leon, nonplussed, obviously having intended for Chris to hear his approach. 

“Chris,” Wesker says evenly, as if the world hasn't stopped and died and been reborn as something uglier since they first met. As if the same isn't true for Chris himself. As if Wesker himself hadn't played a grand role in all of those deaths. 

Wesker taps the plaga in Leon's chest, which shivers and jerks so much that Leon's torso moves with it. Leon groans quietly. 

“Don't touch him!” Chris snaps. He pulls his gun away from Krauser and aims at Wesker who doesn't so much as flinch. In front of him, Krauser grunts and pulls his pinned arm away from the wall. Before Chris can react, Krauser hits him again, bringing him back to the floor. Krauser holds him in place as Wesker walks slowly forward, hands behind his back.

“It's been a pleasure getting to know Agent Kennedy,” Wesker says. “As you know, he comes with high commendations. It seemed a shame to leave him as a simple guard in the employ of Osmund Saddler, don't you agree?” Wesker tilts his gaze back toward Leon. “Do you think the BSAA would hesitate to attack an American agent? I think they might if the agent is known to be married to BSAA's finest captain.” 

Chris glares at Wesker. His mind is too gone with anger to shoot back any clever response. He won't give Wesker the satisfaction. 

Wesker's boot comes to a step right in front of Chris' nose. A moment later, Saddler's staff is planted right in Chris' line of view as well.

“Agent Kennedy,” Wesker says, “would you wake, please?” 

Chris strains underneath Krauser so that he can get his eyes on Leon again. Against the metal table, Leon's eyes flutter again and then open. _They're blue._ He lets out a shaky, aching breath and then looks down, taking the state of himself in. He groans and then goes near to hyperventilating when he sees his opened chest and the plaga that has taken up residence inside of him.

“Impressive,” Wesker murmurs, more to himself. 

“Agent Kennedy,” Wesker continues, and Leon's eyes snap up toward him and then toward Krauser and Chris, taking in the strange scene in front of him. For just a second, Leon is there with him, and Chris' heart thuds. He can see Leon recognize him and take him in before the plaga takes control again – Chris can see all his desperation and fear and hurt, and, somehow, underneath all of that, _relief_ that Chris is there.

Leon goes away as red floods into his eyes. Chris could cry.

“Dispose of Captain Redfield, would you?” Wesker says. The bars slide away from Leon's body, and it stumbles forward onto his feet. The plaga begins the precarious work of stitching Leon's chest back together, getting its shield back in place. In a standard fight, it would have been a deadly delay. But Wesker doesn't expect Chris to fight. 

Krauser pulls up and away from Chris, leaving Chris still on the floor, frozen as Leon moves toward him. The plaga is getting better or stronger at controlling Leon, because it almost has his gait down correctly – those long steps and the shift of his hips. 

Chris swallows and gets to his feet. Wesker might think that Chris will just allow himself to be killed by Leon, but Chris – and Leon, if he's still in there – know better. Chris couldn't ask Leon to come back into his own self after having killed Chris while being controlled by Wesker and the plaga. It's too much. Chris doesn't want to kill Leon, but he goes into this fight knowing that it's a possibility. Knowing that Leon would do the same for him – to save his humanity over his life. 

“Leon,” Chris says cautiously, drawing his knife rather than his gun for the time being. He doesn't doubt that if this were a normal hand-to-hand fight, Leon would win in the end. His speed and flexibility usually lasted longer than Chris' strength whenever they practiced together. But he knows Leon's body better than the plaga, and the plaga still doesn't have the same fine motor skills as Leon himself. 

He braces his body for whatever first blow Leon is going to throw. He doesn't need to truly win this fight, he reminds himself. He just has to endure it. He has to last until Jill and the others get here. With any luck, Wesker will be distracted by his show enough that Jill will get the jump on him.

The plaga inside Leon just _flings_ that body at him. Chris nearly reaches forward to catch him on instinct alone. 

And for all his certainty that he could do this, the plaga hits him in the throat with a quick blow of Leon's hand. Chris chokes and barely gets an arm up to block Leon from kicking him in the head. He barrels forward, getting inside Leon's defenses. They collide off of the table where Leon had been held and ping toward the back of the room. 

Everything inside of Chris is going off in alarm, because he can't imagine that the plaga did a thorough job of stitching Leon's chest back together and Chris has no idea how much damage could be lethal at this point. 

It's a strange thing to make a note of every weakness as something to avoid for now and possibly to exploit later. 

Somehow, in the spinning of their bodies, the plaga manages to get out one of Leon's guns. It levels it at Chris' face, and Chris barely gets a hand up to push Leon's arm out of the way. The bullet goes behind Chris' head, but the sound is still near deafening. 

“ _Leon_ ,” he growls again, half pleading. He punches Leon's arm again, getting the gun out of his grasp and kicking it across the floor. 

Leon's red eyes never waver. They never show any indication of the physical pain he has to be in. They never show any recognition of Chris. He's all machine, driven only by the instinct to fight on Wesker's and the plaga's behalf. There's nothing in his body except for the need to eliminate Chris.

The gun out of his hands, he returns to a barrage of kicks and hits – which, for the time being, Chris can keep up with, blocking and ducking deftly. He's obscenely grateful for his fixation on watching Leon move. It's an obsession that might keep him alive right now. 

And it's an obsession that might also get him killed. Leon's hand flies out in a motion that's all plaga and too fast to be human. Before Chris can process what's happened, Leon has his knife and jabs it into Chris' side, just underneath the vest he's wearing. Chris grunts. Both he and Leon reach for the knife at the same time, both of them fumbling over it where it's stuck in Chris' side. Chris' entire body is screaming red with the pain, and he knows that's not something he can fight with long term. He's at the point of no return with this fight. He's going to die if he doesn't stop Leon now.

His hands shake and he and Leon go down to the ground, rolling over on one another as they try to get the bloodied knife from the other's hand. Chris is dizzy and feels sick, but he can't let Leon do this. He can't let Leon ambush the BSAA team coming. He can't leave his own body in Wesker's possession. 

Chris ends up on his back. His shirt is already drenched with his blood. Leon has a steadier grip on the knife, those soulless eyes bearing down on him as Leon angles to get the blade to go through Chris' throat. Chris has one hand at the base of the knife, holding it back, and the other gripping Leon's wrist. He can feel Leon's pulse hammering away underneath his touch. Christ, this would be easier if he couldn't feel that. If Leon at least felt a little more gone and out of touch. 

He looks at Leon once more. He comforts himself with knowing that Leon loved him and knew he was loved. He comforts himself with knowing that this is what Leon would want. 

He closes his eyes, breathes, and then moves: With his knees on either side of Leon's hips, he brings Leon's body up just enough so that there's a bit of space in between the two of them. He tightens his hold on Leon's wrist and twists down. The knife drags over his vest before Chris is able to bring it back up – and into Leon, just below his sternum. He swears that he can feel Leon's hand helping his at the last minute, directing the blade to the plaga.

Leon gasps wetly above him and then collapses. He sags into Chris, and Chris rolls them, getting Leon onto his back.

“Leon?” Chris asks, near frantic, his hands framing Leon's face, and smearing their blood across Leon's skin.

Leon looks up at him – and those blue eyes have never looked more beautiful. 

“Oh fuck,” Chris says, his voice shaking. He's a mess now. “Oh fuck, Leon, I'm sorry.” 

Leon's breathing is near a wheezing, but he drags his gaze over Chris' face as if there's nothing else in the world – as if he isn't dying beneath Chris with every breath that he takes. It's a look that says everything. It conveys all the years they've been together and the hardships they've endured and the laughter they've shared. It says that he loves Chris. It says that Chris did the right thing.

“Go get him, would you?” Leon says, his voice strained despite the attempt at levity. He nods his head back at where Wesker had been. Both he and Krauser are gone. 

Chris starts to shake his head, unable to imagine leaving Leon to die alone down here. 

“Go get Wesker,” Leon says sharply. Each of the words is obviously costing him, and Chris suspects there would be more if Leon could manage it. That Chris hasn't spent all these years hunting Wesker to let him go now. That Leon didn't go through all of this for Wesker to walk away with all that information on the parasite, including whatever he gleaned from Leon himself. 

So Chris breathes. He steadies himself. He gets to his feet. He knows that he's never going to forget the image of Leon, pale and unprotected, with Chris' knife just above his gut. 

“Go be a hero, baby,” Leon says, smug even through his shaking smile. “I'll be right here.” 

“Hunnigan,” Chris says. “Keep talking to Leon. I'm going after Wesker.”


	3. Chapter 3

It's not a day for victories. But neither is it a day for defeats, so Chris will take that. Wesker gets away, but Chris and Jill manage to obtain the samples and any other information Wesker has on him. He'll still have whatever he knows, and Chris knows that's dangerous enough. But they managed something. If Wesker makes anything from the plagas, the BSAA will be better prepared next time. 

And Krauser is dead, which Chris takes a vicious satisfaction in.

By the time they're done, the medical team has already removed Leon from the scene, and he's able to get little information about the state of his husband. They could still find a pulse. That's all anyone will tell Chris, and he doesn't know if that's worth a damn. 

His own stab wound, though, earns him a hasty trip to the medical facility where Leon has been taken back in the States. Jill is horrified by the injury and, yet, he knows she gets why he could kept going after Wesker even with it.

He gets a quick look over and patch up on the flight, and is declared fairly lucky. Blade didn't hit any of his organs. Chris wonders how much luck had to do with it. 

They land in D.C. and Hunnigan is waiting for them. She smiles a bit tentatively. This is the first time they've met in person, and there's a sort of oddity to it – she's been in his ear for the last day, living every horrific thing he's lived, and probably come close to the dread for Leon that he's felt. 

“They have him in surgery,” Hunnigan says without Chris even needing to ask. “They're … not sure if they can remove the plaga without killing him. You stunned it by stabbing it, but it survived – and still was keeping Leon alive.” She breathes. “But the information you got from Wesker at least gives them a chance. He had the blueprints of a machine that Los Illuminados had to remove early stage plaga, and he certainly had a better understanding of how the plagas infiltrates the nervous system than the cult and what we would have been able to obtain in the few hours we had.” 

It's the best that Chris could have possibly hoped for, and he still aches with the news. He wishes, so badly, that he could have landed and heard that Leon was fine and in recovery already. They might have come this far just for Leon to die on an operating table with a parasite tangled up inside of him. It's better than being Saddler's puppet. It's better than being Wesker's puppet. But Chris still wants him. He wants more time. He wants more lazy Sunday mornings when they're not on mission and playing stupid video games together. He wants drunken Saturday nights out where they act their actual age. He wants to work out with Leon and go to the gun range with Leon and discuss BOW situations with Leon. He wants to see Leon open his eyes and be himself one last time. 

And there's just … absolutely nothing he can do now. He's done everything: he's brought Leon back and gotten the information the USA and BSAA need. Objectively, the mission was a success, and, yet, there might never be a mission that ruins his life more. 

“He needs medical attention,” Jill says from behind Chris when he doesn't volunteer the information. He's obedient, though, as Jill and Hunnigan take him down to find a doctor who can properly disinfect his wound and stitch him up so there's no lasting permanent damage and he'll be right as rain the next time he gets sent halfway across the world to fight monsters. 

“I want to see him,” Chris says once they're finished. He knows that Jill, Hunnigan, and the doctor all want him to get some rest. And he understands that. But short of being drugged, he's never going to be able to sleep while he's wondering what's happening to Leon. And they all give him the dignity of understanding that.

Leon's operating room was built to serve purposes like this. A glass wall separates the actual operating space from an antechamber where various doctors and scientists have gathered to make observations – both about the plaga and its removal from the human body. To them, this is all data, whether Leon lives or dies. And Chris understands that it has to be. To them, this is big picture about saving the world from future attacks, particularly when this is the monster that just took their leader. Chris has saved the world long enough to have that mindset most of the time. But, right now, his job done, his entire world is currently being torn apart by a scalpel and radiation. 

When he walks in, there's a sort of reverent silence. The researchers part to let him through, and Chris comes to a stop, Hunnigan and Jill each on one side. 

Leon just looks … young. He's taken back to the first time that Claire introduced them. Leon had seemed like such a kid then, and it had been incredible that he'd survived Raccoon City through his own tenacity and skill. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to wrap his head around it if it hadn't been for Claire – who he would always see as a kid but also knew the amount of nerve she had. For all he worried about her, he knew that she was completely capable of taking care of herself. That attitude had quickly extended to Leon. Leon was a natural in the field, and Chris had to trust him to do his job. But Chris also spent plenty of sleepless nights when he knew that Leon was on mission and Chris was stuck at home. It's always easier to be the one leaving than the one being left behind.

He wants to remind Leon of that right now. That Leon better not fucking go as if it's easy. 

The plaga writhes in Leon's ribcage, but it's undeniably weaker than it was when Chris saw it in Wesker's makeshift lab. The doctors switch between zapping it with radiation and then working on teasing its tendrils out of Leon. It's precise, exhausting work. Leon's going to have a hell of a recovery time if he comes back at all. He flatlines at least once. 

Hunnigan clutches at him when that happens, but Chris is stalwart. He stares at Leon under those fluorescent lights until spots dance in his eyes and he wills Leon to come back to life. 

After hours on his feet, Chris finally takes an offered seat and, somehow, trusting that someone will wake him when there's a change, he falls asleep right there.

When Jill wakes him, time has a surreal quality to it. He doesn't know how long he's been sitting in that chair, but his side burns from the wound and his back aches from sleeping upright. 

“They've moved him into recovery,” Jill says. “They think he should make it.” She says it before Chris can look into the operating room, which is devoid of the surgeons and has been taken over by the cleaning crew, who are wiping Leon's blood off countless surfaces. 

Chris nods and lumbers to his feet. He's heard Jill's words but he hasn't processed them, and Jill seems to know that. She walks him down the hall to Leon's room and then stops at the door. She squeezes Chris' hand once and then lets him step in by himself.

A ventilator is still breathing for Leon, making him look close to lifeless. But another machine beeps out Leon's pulse, strong and unwavering. Chris closes his eyes and listens to that noise like it's a prayer. He finally lets himself cry, silently, shoulders shaking, when he's by himself and alone beside Leon's bedside. He has a thread of hope that Leon might be okay, which is the most he's had in hours and hours now. 

He rests a single broad hand over Leon's wrist, almost afraid to touch him anywhere else. He knows that Leon has stitches from his navel to his collarbone. It'll be a hell of a scar to add to the collection. It's going to destroy Chris because every time he sees it, it will be a reminder of how close Leon came to dying. And it will resurrect Chris, because it also will be a reminder that Leon didn't die. 

He sits down beside Leon's bed, keeps holding his wrist, and puts his head down on the bed beside Leon's prone figure. He soaks in Leon's warmth and keeps listening to the beat of his heart.

“Come back and be a hero,” Chris murmurs. “I'll be right here.”

…

It takes days for Leon to wake up, 

When he finally opens his eyes, devoid of the machines that were keeping him alive for awhile, the first thing he says is, “Fuck.” 

His voice is a raw mess. It's the most beautiful thing that Chris has ever heard. He laughs, half broken. 

“Fuck, you're beautiful,” Leon says, almost as if he's dazed by it – but Chris gets it. It's more the overwhelming sensation of realizing that he's still _alive_. 

“Right back at you,” Chris says, and if he's smiling wetly, who's there to judge. He tightens his grip around Leon's wrist and Leon adjusts their hands so he can lace their fingers together. They're quiet for a moment, because there's so much to say and then there's so much that also goes beyond words. 

“Is it out?” Leon asks, eyes closed as if he can't bear to see Chris' expression if Chris tells him that Leon still has a parasite lodged inside of him that can turn him mindless and evil.

“It's gone,” Chris promises, and Leon sighs out so heavily that it must hurt his chest. He looks at Chris with the sheerest expression of relief. 

“And you're okay?” Leon asks, eyes dipping down to where he had stabbed Chris during their fight. 

“Just a scratch,” Chris answers, although they know it's a bit more than that. But, really, in the grand scheme of things, that's all it feels like. The smallest inconvenience that will leave barely leave a scar. 

“Ashley?” Leon asks a moment later, his voice low. He likely already knows the answer even if he doesn't want to know it. And Chris doesn't want to be the one to have to tell Leon this bad news, but he owes it to Leon. It's a hard job they do. If they counted score by their failures, they'd never carry on. Sometimes, all they can do is trust that things would have been worse if they weren't there. Most of the days, that's enough. In a situation like this, Chris knows it will be cold comfort. 

“She's dead,” Chris answers gently. 

Leon closes his eyes tightly as if he's both flinching and trying to keep himself from crying.

“She was so young, Chris,” Leon says, his voice breaking in a way he won't let it with anyone else. “And scared. I kept telling her that we were going to be okay. She didn't deserve any of it.” 

“There's more, Leon,” Chris says. He knows this is unfair, but it's also a part of the job they do. Waiting isn't going to make the news any less painful. For an American agent tasked with protecting the president's family, Chris also knows this is likely to be the most devastating news of Leon's career – barring the world completely dissolving during a BOW attack. 

“The president's dead,” Chris says. He pauses for just a moment, giving Leon a few seconds to absorb the shock of such news. “But that's the extent of how far the attack reached into the United States. Hunnigan thinks that Saddler was already dead by the time Ashley landed in America, and Wesker didn't have control over her, so it's likely the plaga just … acted out on its own instead of spreading like it was supposed to. We got scores of information from both Wesker and Los Illuminados on the plaga. We'll be prepared for the original strain and possibly even any updates.” 

In the end, maybe the rest of that will help Leon. But right now, he knows that the only words really matter are that Ashley and President Graham are dead, and Leon had been the last person standing between them and Saddler. That news is going to leave a scar on Leon's psyche that will match the one on his chest. And right now, it's so raw that Leon can't even begin to touch it.

“Did you get Wesker?” Leon asks instead. 

“Not this time,” Chris admits. He knows that doesn't help matters any – as if the scales would have been balanced if Chris had been able to stop Albert Wesker because all of this had happened. 

“But I know he's out there,” Chris says, steel in his voice. “I'll find him.”

“I know,” Leon says quietly, and he squeezes Chris' hand. They're quiet for a moment, the worst and most important of the news delivered. Chris knows they won't have much longer to themselves. Sooner or later, one of the nurses or doctors is going to walk in and realize that Leon is awake. He'll be back under medical scrutiny and, likely as soon as that's done, he'll be inundated with American agents who will scour and record every last second of Leon's experience in Spain. And Chris will have to leave some distance from all of that, because he'll be a BSAA captain again. 

For these few seconds, their marriage trumps Leon the agent and Chris the captain. 

“Thank you,” Leon says quietly. He doesn't specify what for, but Chris knows. For going to Spain in the first place. For finding Leon. For being willing to kill him when almost anyone else would have hesitated. And for managing to bring him home in spite of that. 

“I love you,” Chris answers. His answer also contains multitudes: that Leon owes him nothing because he knows Leon would do the same for him. 

“I love you,” Leon answers back, tired. “Please fucking kiss me.” 

Chris does. He stands, still holding Leon's hand, and leans over him so that Leon doesn't have to move at all. He kisses him slowly, like he's breathing for the first time in days – he kisses him like he's afraid that it might never happen again, because he _was_ afraid that it might never happen again. Leon lifts his free hand to stroke his fingertips through Chris' short hair. They exist like that, for just a moment, suspended together where nothing else matters because they're both alive. 

Behind him are the footsteps of a nurse coming to check on Leon.

Chris parts their lips.

“If you want to pretend to be asleep for another half a day, Valentine will win $25,” Chris says. 

“You bet on when I was going to wake up?” Leon asks, nonplussed.

“You bet your sweet ass, I did,” Chris grins. 

“When did you have?” Leon asks.

“Yesterday,” Chris answers, shrugging off his loss. “Sorry about that.” Leon shakes his head a little, but it's so clear that he's endeared by Chris' optimism. They both know they have a hell of a road in front of them for the time being, between endless reports and grueling recovery. 

Chris straightens. 

“I'll see you at home, Agent Kennedy,” Chris says.


End file.
